


Red Arrows

by LeroyJ



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Clintasha - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeroyJ/pseuds/LeroyJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the world is taken over by the dead, Clint and Natasha do their best to hold onto what is still living. Clint is desperate to make the apocalypse less horrifying for them both while Natasha does her best to keep them alive at any cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Arrows

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was something I started a while back and decided to publish it on here. I like including zombies into all of my pairings if possible so I thought, why not throw a couple animated dead corpses at Clint and Natasha for fun? (Now, don't be fooled... I still throw them into emotional troubles as well). 
> 
> Read on zombie and Clint/Natasha fanatics alike!

The sun was an orange color, rusty hot and still determined to sweat them both out. Gnats and bugs of the like swirled around their faces and the two whisked them away without a thought. Their clothes stuck to their sweating bodies like wet suits. The field radiated dry heat underneath their feet and it seemed to up the tension between the assassins.

“Listen, Natasha!” he nearly shook the angry redhead in his hands. “There are kids back there and like hell we’re just going to let them get eaten up like that!” his eyes burned into hers, he was nearly desperate, trying to do anything to nurse his conscience back to health.

Natasha stared at him with a firm disposition. Clint knew just as well as she did that they barely made it out of that neighborhood alive as the dead cornered in on them. Their mindless bodies stinking of rotten meat and sticky blood could certainly hear them now. She wanted nothing more than to get out of there alive, but with Clint’s obsession, she knew it would be better for her to stalk away quickly. He held her tightly in his grasp, his blue eyes ticking down the precious seconds.

“You can hear them, can’t you? Do you hear them calling for help!?” Clint wanted to ask her if she honestly cared about the fate of those young kids. He knew she did. A part of him was furious with her selfishness, but another part of him was disgusted with his own foolishness.

“Clint!” Natasha pushed him away from her with a grunt. “Why can’t you understand that there are some things we have no control over? Even if we could save them, how do we know that we could protect them a week from now…? How are we supposed to have little kids trailing behind us in an apocalypse?”

“For fuck’s sake, Nat, it’d be better to try and give them a chance,” he eyed her down, a bit of understanding reaching him, but not enough to make him change his mind. “I’m going back, I want to.”

“With or without me,” she stated simply.

With that, Clint Barton fixed the quiver on his back and took off toward the small neighborhood from where they both just escaped a mass of the dead. Natasha watched him go, his body trying its best to be strong but the limp in his right leg gave it away.

Natasha stood there in the protection of the grassy field unbelievably angry. Wiping her red hair off of her face, she exhaled. What frustrated her was that she was more worried for Clint than she was upset at his idiocy. Of course Clint could handle his own, but she worried about the archer nonetheless. They were supposed to raid the Mom and Pop gun store around the block to check for any of the supplies that they desperately needed, but they didn't get that far. The mob of dead creatures put a kink in that plan for the moment.

The night before, Clint and Natasha stayed in a small home with few windows. They risked lighting two candles, and shared a can of peaches and a bottle of water between them. Things were running low, so it was understandable that Natasha was getting so frustrated with Clint’s need of heroism.

She remembered Clint gently asking her to slip off her jacket and shirt. She side eyed him until she figured out that he wasn’t asking anything sexual from her at that time, he was genuine. Natasha did as he asked, positioning herself between his legs, her back to him. With a cool rag, Clint gently dabbed the dried blood and sweat away with the utmost care. She even sighed at one point. He traced the curves of her neck and the dip in her back. The next thing she knew she was turned about in Clint’s lap, gently kissing him with thanks.

Coming back to the current time, she let her fingers anxiously twitch while gripping her machete. She looked up at the sinking sun and growled in defeat. She almost lost Clint Barton once, and she was not going to lose him again. Not on her account.

As she dashed toward the home where Clint was planning a rescue, she drew her machete. A creature caught sight of her and began a quick trot towards her. She easily sliced its pathetic head off, and it made a dull thud when the skull hit the pavement.

She reached the street of the small, blue home. Slowing, she nearly gasped as she watched a group of dead throwing themselves at the front door. Others loomed about the sides of the home and the back. As she was about to cuss, she stopped and whimpered in horror as the door crumbled down and the stinky creatures flooded the first floor.

She heard a child’s scream and then Clint’s. Her legs were already pushing into a run, her eyes not daring to peel themselves off of the scene ahead of her. She saw a small body begin to crawl out of a second story window near a big tree. Heading in that direction, she was ready to take out the dead waiting on the side of the house that were looking up at the child like a fresh slab of meat. She pulled out her pistol with the silencer and quickly gunned down three of them.

She snuck around the side of the home and looked up at the window. The child looked down terrified; she wondered what Clint’s initial plan was. When the kid spotted her, it began to whimper with fear.

Natasha looked around to make sure the dead did not hear before raising her index finger to her lips. The kid inhaled and looked behind into the house. Natasha heard Clint desperately beg the child to climb into the tree. Quickly going to the trunk, Natasha began climbing up in hopes that it would make the situation less scary for them both.

She quietly motioned for the kid to move out to her and it seemed to work. Natasha reached for the child’s grubby hand and pulled the kid into her torso. She looked up to see Clint’s sweaty face poke out of the window as he began climbing out into the tree quicker than she had ever seen. He spotted her and nodded sternly as they both began descending the tree.

“Watch out!” The child she was helping yelled out. Before she could draw a weapon, an arrow whizzed through the air and sunk into the eye socket of the creature. The child turned to look up at Clint almost mystically.

“We gotta keep going down, kid,” Natasha half carried the child down the tree and to the ground. Knowing that Clint would be right behind, she grabbed the small hand of her climbing partner and dashed through the neighbor’s yard to get back to the clearing that they were quickly resting in before.

“You know, I was getting really worried that you wouldn't show up, Nat,” Clint called behind her as they dashed away.

Within minutes they were back to the grassy clearing. It was a temporary safe resting spot, for it was hidden by trees and it dipped low. The child’s hand was gripped tightly to Natasha’s. Quickly, Clint’s booted footsteps came up behind them and she turned them both around.

For the first time Natasha noticed little arms wrapped around Clint’s neck. She raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

“You brought us home two children, sweetie?”

Clint smiled tiredly, sweat dripping down his brow. “Of course, you know two was my hoped for number.” He helped off the little one to the ground. The child gripped Clint for dear life.

In fact, Natasha did know that two children was his desire, if he had one. They talked about it in casual sentences after a few loosening beverages. Suddenly, it made her feel for him because yes, indeed, Natasha did know that about Clint Barton.

Looking between the two, small dirty faces, a new fear bubbled in her gut. Some would say Natasha was better suited for an apocalypse than anyone, but there was still one thing she hated to do and that was to exterminate children, even if their brains turned to dead mush. Lines are crossed all the time, but this was one she did not want to deal with. Natasha eyed the small hand tightly around hers.

“Are you two alright?” Natasha asked. Her fear of them turning was quite evident to the point where Clint’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Knowing Natasha, Clint shot, “They’re not infected. I checked them both.”

“Yes, we’re okay,” the small voice whispered. Clint looked down at the child gripping his thigh and rested a hand on the dirty head.

“What’s your name?” he asked softly.

“Henry,” the boy whispered shyly.

Clint pointed to the child holding Natasha’s hand. “What about number two over there?”

The boy looked up and frowned gently, “She’s my big sister. Her name is Ellie.”

The child named Ellie pushed deeper into Natasha’s side. She wasn't sure if the kid was shy or still terrified from almost being eaten alive, whichever way the story went, Natasha couldn't help but lay a hand on the kid’s shoulder.

“Okay, we have to keep moving everybody. It isn't safe here,” Clint said in a hushed tone. The threat of the dead finding them was all very clear, so Clint picked up the small boy and walked over to Natasha.

“We still head south as planned. The farther we are from the cities the better,” she mumbled, “Unfortunately, we still need to restock on supplies and ammo.”

Clint shifted the boy in his grasp and raised a brow at his partner, “So it’s a good thing we were planning on borrowing from that old gun store anyway, right? I’m sure these guys are good at finding supplies, huh?” He looked down expectantly at Ellie and she nodded into Natasha’s side.

The sun was lowered further in the horizon as the group trekked on after checking the map quickly. It was still very hot and sticky, but the bugs weren’t as bad once they were away from the grassy, dry field. Clint and Natasha were both growing very anxious. Being out in the night was idiotic, and now they had to worry about two more lives. As they walked through the quiet streets, Natasha began talking to the two children about rules, what was expected of them, how they were to act at all times, amongst a few other expectations. They nodded in understanding a few times, but their eyes were too glazed over to absorb it all. Clint frowned and decided to change the subject.

“Well, we know you’re Ellie and Henry, but I guess you don’t know who we are.” The boy seemed to perk up a bit from Clint’s back, his hands gripping Clint’s broad shoulders. “That isn’t very fair,” Clint continued, “so Henry and Ellie, my name is Clint.”

Natasha glanced sideways at Clint as they walked along the road. Her annoyance was getting the best of her now, but after the first month of the end of the world, she knew it was more due to the lack of sleep, food, and water. It wasn’t like she didn’t have to deal with those emotional conditions before; it just seemed so much more personal with Clint Barton around. She caught him giving her an encouraging glance. He meant well, to keep the young ones occupied until they could make camp at the store, so she played along.

Natasha sucked in a breath, trying her best to relax herself somewhat. The tensions in her shoulders were unnecessary. She patted Ellie’s hand, gaining her attention. “Do you think that’s a good name for a guy like him, Ellie? Clint? Seems a little plain.”

The little girl looked up at Natasha curiously, “It’s okay.”

“Well, he didn't tell you his secret identity…” Natasha smiled as the little boy leaned forward to look at the side of Clint’s face in awe. His small finger poked Clint’s flushed cheek and Henry seemed satisfied with himself.

“I knew it,” Henry spoke matter-of-factly. “He’s a superhero like Superman, isn't he!?”

Playing the game, Clint playfully threw a hand up in the air, defeated. “You've figured me out! What am I going to do now?”

Ellie looked at Clint shyly, “We won’t tell anybody you’re a hero.”

Clint smiled at the girl, “Thank you, Miss Ellie.”

Natasha moved closer to Clint and bumped his shoulder with hers playfully. “Tell the kids what your superhero name is,” she grinned mockingly at him.

“Only if you tell them yours too,” he winked.

Eventually, the group made it to the gun store before the sun was gone in the sky. Clint and Natasha quietly hushed the children to the back of the store after they checked every nook and cranny for evidence of the dead. No evidence was found so they latched every door and covered every window before bothering to sit down. The children spoke quietly in the back of the store in a medium sized storage room as Natasha and Clint finished safeguarding the place.

“You know, Clint… I was expecting more from this gun store,” Natasha frowned. She was right; the place was more of a sports store than a gun store. Then again, any weaponry available to the public looked a bit toy-like to the old S.H.I.E.L.D agents anyway.

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about those kids being around a bunch of guns. Sure, we sleep with weapons under our pillows, but them… they’re luckier than us.”

She wasn't completely sure what he meant by being luckier, maybe by being younger and innocent than themselves.

The shop was dark and cooler than outside, it smelled lightly of old leather and dust. Natasha scoffed as she plopped onto the counter next to Clint. He leaned his tired body against it, huffing as his aching back stretched. As Natasha sat on the counter, a feeling of anger rushed over her.

“How are we supposed to keep going like this?” Natasha hissed. She looked towards the room with the children and hushed her voice. “Were you thinking at all, Clint?! We can’t carry around these kids like this forever.” Even in the darkness, she felt her demeanor match it. “Not only have you now gotten us killed, but those two in there as well.”

Clint dipped his head into the crook of his arm and chuckled darkly. Waves of anger beat off of his partner like a heater, he could feel it. He was exhausted. He thought about the brown haired boy and the blonde haired little girl. He thought about their dirty faces and the deterioration of their clothing. He pondered how they survived on their own, or how long their parents fought for the lives of those kids. Clint Barton could get angry too if he chose to.

He was tired.

“Natasha, do you get it yet?” Clint exhaled. “We’re going to die anyway.” He straightened up again and inched as close to the side of Natasha as possible. Even in the dark he could see her deadly eyes. “You tell me right now, this very instant, that you knew from the start we would live to see 80 years,” he rubbed his left eye with aggravation before continuing, “Tell me you would have done differently.”

And then he got her. Clint felt it the moment she released the tension in her fists. Even before the end of humanity, Clint and Natasha always inwardly knew that they wouldn’t receive the pleasure of being able to grow old, to watch the world change. As agents and as Avengers, everything was dangerous and never guaranteed. The reality of their world was this: yes, their lives were requested to be short and grand, and even though dead walked the Earth, that was all still true for them. Seeing the age of grey hair and grandchildren was never an opportunity either of them would have had. Even before all of this.

Natasha bit her bottom lip, now entirely exhausted herself. She was thinking cruelly, unfairly. Clint was the best man she ever knew, and he deserved to be treated better. He was better than her in many respects, including emotions. He could be touched tenderly and then return it with more truth than she ever could.

Hiding her face, she gasped as quietly as a spy could bear. “I’m so sorry, Barton.”

With this Clint looked up, his previous demeanor falling. He promised himself that he would do the best for his redheaded friend and he didn’t want Natasha to punish herself for temperaments she could not always control. He also knew a part of Natasha was right and he held that closely.

“Don’t be stupid, Tasha,” he slinked in front of her, ignoring all personal space between them. Her knees pushed into his upper thighs as he leaned forward to place a hand on her cheek. This was a gesture Clint Barton had to earn over the many years. To his surprise, Natasha pulled him closely by the jaw and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. He closed his eyes, relishing the moment with her and sighed.

“I don’t want to be the one to lose her humanity completely. You know, whatever soul I have left.” Natasha whispered into his hair.

He massaged her clammy cheek with his thumb. “Don’t start that. Not now.” And he whispered the last bit with great earnest and truth, “You’re okay.”

The softest of whimpers escaped from the retired Russian assassin before he felt her wrap her whole being around his torso. Her dangerous and beautiful legs held him closely as her arms hungered for him. After the initial surprise of it all, he gently wrapped his arms around her too, feeling the slight shiver in her body. She snuck her head into the crook of his neck and her words tickled into his skin.

“Thank you,” she planted a soft kiss there and moved again. “Спасибо,” she hummed it softly.

Trailing his nose up the curve of her neck, he breathed in her natural smell. A few red hairs tickled his upper lip as he grinned into her skin. Nothing felt as good to him. Goosebumps rose on his arms as she whispered in Russian into his ear. He knew it wasn't sexual taunting that she whispered to him and maybe that’s what made his skin prickle with electricity- that it was something kinder. Everything about her was just completely beautiful.

A little voice whispered quietly from the back of the store, surprising them out of their own world.

“Excuse me, Mister and Misses Hawkeye?”

They separated enough to look presentable for Henry. Even though it was too dark to see it, Clint could tell Natasha’s cheeks would give away the slightest of pink tones.

Clint cleared his throat, “What’s up, buddy? Are you guys doing okay?”

Natasha slinked off of the counter and walked towards the small boy. She smoothed some hair out of his eyes as he looked up at her.

“I have to go potty,” he said, embarrassed.

Smiling she looked over at Clint, “I think Mr. Hawkeye can help you out.”


End file.
